


momMy and dadddy

by THA_THUMPP



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Daddy Wesker, Dysfunctional Family, M/M, Mommy Chris, S.T.A.R.S., The Mansion Incident, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3083150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisa Trevor knocks both Wesker and Chris out and keeps them locked away in her cabin. Her mental instability makes her very dangerous and unpredictable, so in order to survive Wesker and Chris must work together to get out of this nightmare in one piece. But what the poor girl has in store for them may be - in fact - way out of their skill set...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're In This Together

**Author's Note:**

> Bought the Biohazard HD Remaster Collector's Package a couple months back. Finally decided to open it up and beat it on New Years. This crack ass idea hit us like a wave of nostalgic when playing... Great game. Can't top the original, though. Classic FTW.

The crackling of the fireplace was what woke Chris first. It was a raging noise, repetitive, sounding with a volley of pops and sizzles. The flames would’ve been a close second, with their heat, how the fresh firewood spit embers outside of the hearth and onto the floor nearly inches from where he was laying. It was a fierce burn against his face and chest, roasting his skin under his vest, and after an uncomfortable squirm he made an effort to stand.

In a slow sit and twist, Chris was up, soon to throw a hand to the side of his head in pain. It was throbbing, more predominantly above his left temple, and it didn’t take him long to remember why. He’d been hit, clubbed, by two fists and a block of wood. Other than those details, he didn’t see the doer. Whoever or _whatever_ it was was too fast. It’d taken him by surprise with a speed too cruel to be human, and with what he’d seen of the mansion so far he wouldn’t be aghast if it was just that.

A monster.

Chris had downed plenty of those when first entering the manor, a lot more when passing through the courtyard and leaving the graveyard. They were around every corner and behind every tree, shuffling and moaning like lost souls. It was only with a little luck and restrained trigger-finger that he managed to avoid being grabbed during his trek along the dirt path, all the way to the cabin in the woods.

The very same woods that were mentioned throughout the blips of static from the broken radio.

At the time, Chris didn’t know what to make of the message, merely that it was his Captain’s voice he’d heard. It wasn’t until after he creaked open the cabin door and stepped through that realization began to sink in.

Inside, the interior was a derelict. The flooring was in shambles, rotten planks of wenge-colored wood heaped in piles and corners like compost. It looked like it’d seen a couple decades of weathering, rain and age. The only living touches were the shelves aligning the walls, each ledge covered with coats of dust and adorned with cobwebs.

Then there was the bedroom. It was small, containing no more than a muddled table and crude bed, giving the appearance that no one had slept on it for ages. Yet to the touch the sheets were still warm… meaning something had just been there.

Something big.

“Could that have been what hit me?” Chris asked aloud, still holding his head in a daze, until his ears picked up on a sound that had him alert in an instant. It was a sharp creak in the floorboards, sending him in a quick turn to find the source before a familiar accent broke the silence, answering his question.

_“I believe you’re right.”_

Chris stopped his search at the short set of stairs aligning the back of the room just in time to see his Captain descend them casually, adjusting his sunglasses out of habit once his boots landed the last step. His shoulders were pulled straight as if he was uptight, his hair disheveled at the bangs and Chris could see a spot of blood among some strands.

“Wesker! What happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wesker made a noise similar to a mumble, like he was almost embarrassed. “She must have gotten the jump on me…”

“ _She_?”

Chris was pretty sure he didn’t see any other women wandering around the halls besides Rebecca Chambers from Bravo Team. But she was still just a kid in his eyes and incapable of shouldering anything heavier than one-hundred-and-fifty pounds at most. That, and she was on their side, so there was no way Wesker was talking about her.

The same means applied to Jill, who was still missing. She wasn’t strong enough to knock a grown man unconscious, let alone him or their Captain, which left no one else in mind for Chris. Although he _did_ vaguely remember hearing chains and screams from under the mansion’s entrance hall when he examined the doubled doors at the back of the stairs, the ones that seemed to lead down to an area that didn’t look to be a part of the original designs of the manor.

Those howls. They _could_ have been female… But for Wesker to be so certain of gender?

Chris wasn’t ready to admit it, but he held suspicions against his Captain. He’d been harboring them ever since he read some Researcher’s Will he picked up in one of the rooms along the way. Something Crackhorn? Chris couldn’t remember the first name, only that whoever wrote it was infected after a lab accident and wasn’t permitted to call his beloved because of a man in _sunglasses_.

The description was vague, but it still had Chris thinking even now.

How did Wesker end up in the same predicament as him? Wasn’t he supposed to be exploring the foyer with Jill? Where was Jill? What had Wesker been doing this entire time? Did he know the area? Had he been here before?

Every thought that combed through Chris’s head was only poison for the doubt already nested there, and he tried not to make it obvious that he was skeptical about where his Captain’s loyalties were when he finally decided to speak up.

“Wesker.” Chris took a small step forward, trying his best to keep a certain amount of inquisitiveness out of his voice as he waited to hear his Captain hum in response, provided that he couldn’t see his face. It was turned away, focused more on the front door than him, which seemed to be stuck on something from the other side. “Were you _following_ me?”

“Not at first.” Wesker admitted as he let go of the knob to maunder around with a calm expression, like he found it normal to be asked such a question, not curious. “I was exploring another wing of mansion on the second story when I saw you from one of the windows. But when I tried to warn you over the radio that there was something in the woods, you didn’t seem to hear me…” His voice trailed as he walked away from the door, then two-feet past Chris, before stopping and glancing over his shoulder, but not enough to show his lips. “So here I am.”

“You were worried about me.” Chris scoffed, letting his tone rise a little at the end, but in no way too dubious.

“Of course.” Wesker returned his head forward, almost in ignorance. “As Captain, it’s my duty to look out for my subordinates.”

Despite the authority of Wesker’s reply, the longer Chris stared at his Captain’s back in silence the more his heart sank. It sounded like a lie, all of it. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Chris couldn’t decide why, only that Wesker’s accent didn’t waver once… like there was nothing behind the words themselves, like he didn’t believe them in spite of having spoken them.

Chris felt his fists clench by his sides, but he wasn’t fast enough to open his mouth to express his mistrust. A noise cut him off. It jingled distantly, like something scraping against the floor – _chains_ by the sound of it, and both he and Wesker turned together to see a figure lurking into the bedroom from the other side of the cabin.

It looked like an abomination. Arms the length of legs, body hunched and covered in nothing but a threadbare hospital gown, wrists clamped with iron-rimmed shackles, and skin stitched with faces like patches on a quilt. Nothing about it appeared to be human… or gender-specific. But sure enough, as it dragged its tattered self across the upper floor and to the edge of the stairs at the back the moans said otherwise.

It used to be a _she_.

“ _Mo…ther…_ ” The word was croaked out between very sharp and laborious breaths, like every gulp taken was painful, and after a wild shriek the wretched girl jumped from the landing.

In a loud thump she was downstairs, where she stood before the two men, within a distance that would’ve been considered precariously close. But even then she didn’t strike out, only gawk, which was when the room grew an eerie still and ten times as hot because of the fireplace.

“What… What’s she waiting for?” Chris murmured in a voice louder than the average whisper. He would never admit it out loud, but he was frozen in fear. “Why hasn’t she attacked us yet?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Wesker replied carefully before leaving a pause for thought. “But if you’re asking me to guess…” Chris didn’t see the smirk. “I’d say she wants us to _play_ _house_.”


	2. The Real Survival Horror

_Play house_. That was the last thing Chris ever expected to hear from his Captain’s lips, particularly because of the unquestionable sincerity it was said with. In all his years working under Wesker, Chris never took the man as having that kind of dry humor. However, now clearly proved that he didn’t know his Captain as well as he thought…

“You can’t be serious!” Chris’s enunciation was a tad melodramatic for someone treading the fine line between life-and-death, but like many times before he let his personality get the better of him.

“Quite.” Wesker tried not to mind that Chris was talking to his back as he siphoned past the theatrics with a light knot to his brows, enough so that the tops barely peeked over the rims of his sunglasses. Though it didn’t really matter what expression he was wearing. Smile or scorn, Chris still couldn’t see his face. Wesker made sure of that. “It appears as though Lisa’s memory has deteriorated so much that she can’t tell friend from foe.”

Chris scoffed, still reacting to the situation like it was a joke. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” _―wait… Lisa?_

“It’s exactly as it sounds, Chris.” Wesker made an outward motion with his arms like he was showcasing something magnificent, causing Lisa’s groans and wheezes to rile as she squandered forward, _closer_ , like she had no fear left in her bones. Only instinct. “We’re substitutes… for her deceased parents.”

Now it was deceased parents?

It was Chris’s turn to knot his brows. Suspicion was swimming back through his mind in spite of not being able to get past the subject in regards to the name, but as he took a moment to actually think instead of jumping the gun he _did_ briefly recall a family photo he picked up on the bedroom table moments before being knocked out. The second half of the photograph was missing, but the three forenames written on the back were still intact.

Knowing if Wesker was referring to the supposed daughter in the picture was a stretch though, considering how any resemblance to the then and now looked to have been lost somewhere over the decades of experimentation and body modifications, but overall it did provide some justification for where Wesker was scrounging his data. Only, Chris wanted to be sure.

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“A little raven told me.” Wesker fought a sigh at how Chris was beginning to sound like the bane of his existence. “Now go around. We’ll cut her off.”

Chris resisted planting his hands on his hips as he looked around the room, his question of, _how so?_ evident but unvoiced.

The room itself was already a tight space, no bigger than five to six feet between the fireplace and small staircase. There was no way he could make it around the monster without catching her attention or retreating unscathed, and he wasn’t about to tempt luck… _again_. Chris held out his hand in a quiet protest, but in the end it did nothing to stop his intractable Captain from advancing, leaving him to follow the orders he’d been given.

In a short breath Chris sidestepped once and to the left, keeping his sights straight when he caught a glimpse of the monster’s eye peeking from underneath the fissure in the rawhide encasing her face. He had a hard time swallowing when the pupil peered incessantly into his, the white of the sclera most noticeable, which only grew wider as Wesker spoke.

“Lisa, my dear, sweet child. Come over here.”

To Chris – although subtle – it seemed like his Captain was having way too much fun with the whole situation they’d been thrown into, his voice oddly paternal and soothing with each word like he’d been talking to children all his life and knew the right things to say and when to say them. If he considered his members of S.T.A.R.S. as his underlings perhaps, then it’d make a little more sense. But now wasn’t the time for rootless speculation.

With his orders clearly given to him, Chris had no choice but to dutifully obey. Liking it or not wasn’t a preference at this point, but there was enough doubt in his sigh to say otherwise. He wasn’t pleased, not one bit, and he visibly cringed when he saw Lisa take a hampered limp towards Wesker. From her body language it almost looked like she was ostensibly enslaved to her delusions, her mental retardation a chain and her deformity but a mere ball.

An empty armor of nothing but loneliness.

“That’s it.” Wesker coaxed as he took an enticing stride back, as if he was a form of bait. “Be a good girl and behave.”

As Lisa’s attention remarkably stayed put on his Captain, Chris noticed how Wesker artfully threw him a nod, masking it as a quick flick of his chin. _Go now_ , was how Chris read it, and he immediately understood that it was time for him to make his move. Acting on it though, it wasn’t as easy as he thought. He was thrown off guard the very minute Wesker allowed Lisa to get close enough to place her long arms around his neck in an awkward… hug?

Chris tried to shake the imagery from his mind, telling himself to stay focused and that his Captain knew what he was doing. Hopefully, he could only assume. And he would. With his arms out and back to whatever there was left to call a wall, Chris slowly began inching himself behind the monster, taking every precaution not to bump her. It went one painful step at a time and he held his breath for most of them, right up until the tip of his boot knocked into a piece of loose plywood, toppling it over.

“ _Fa…ther…_ ” Within an instant, Lisa became alert at the anomaly in her cabin. She sounded like a cornered dog with the way she growled, high and aware, not even giving Chris a chance to react.

In a screech, an array of tentacles burst out from under the frayed hospital gown on her hunched back in a savage assault, tendril-like tips sharp and bladed. But Chris didn’t find that out until after she lashed one out like a whip, nicking him on his shoulder and knocking him to the ground in a startled gasp.

“Chris!” Wesker’s Captain-like tone surfaced at a reasonable volume, catching both Lisa and Chris unexpectedly.

Lisa stopped her pursuit and Chris felt a small sensation of wonder bloom in his chest. This had to be the first time that Wesker sounded fond of him, not just indifferent or unconcerned, but sincere and affectionate. For once in his life, his Captain was _actually_ worried. The evidence was on Wesker’s face as he rushed over to kneel by his side. Yet even then it still seemed unreal, enough to be embarrassing.

“I’m… alright.” Chris uttered, so evasive with his guilty gaze that he nearly missed how Wesker threw a glare over his shoulder at Lisa.

Whatever canvas was left of a girl underneath all that death and rot stiffened at the fierce look, more so the sense of fear that came from glimpsing her own reflection in Wesker’s sunglasses, and she was quick to plod backwards, away from them, like she was suddenly uninterested… for now.

“It seems that approaching her directly isn’t going to work.” Wesker hushed his voice as he leaned in to inspect Chris’s wound. He hummed softly when noticing that it wasn’t all that deep. “We’ll have to try a different tactic.”

“You have another plan?” Chris let his lack of faith show with his cringe as his Captain attempted to tie off his sleeve like a makeshift tourniquet.

“We’ll simply have to assume her perspective further and play along with her delusions until there’s an opening, one we can take without any more unnecessary risks.”

Trust Wesker to be brazen with his words, Chris groused to himself as his Captain offered him a hand, like it’d already been decided. But then again, such an attitude was expected. Wesker _was_ the Captain of Alpha Team for a reason, after all, clinically proven to work well under duress. Never mind his ability to keep a straight head in times of need.

“Can you stand?”

“I… I think so.”

“Good.” Wesker didn’t wait for Chris to adjust. In one, hard tug he pulled his subordinate flat on his feet.

Chris breathed out audibly, soon to raise a brow, but not from any sort of discomfort or pain. “Wait. If _you’re_ the father figure here. Does that mean _I’m_ the…” He couldn’t bring himself to say his projected role in all this, and Wesker droned something wry with a Mona Lisa smile.

“You _do_ look like you’d make a good housewife.”

Ignoring Chris’s expression narrowing into something bruised, Wesker reservedly peeked over his shoulder at Lisa again, who was now wandering next to the rear staircase, alone, like a bored or neglected child trying to find some form of comfort, otherwise entertainment. Luckily enough, her own distraction would serve the two of them well, and Wesker let his attention trail around the cabin until he found something useful. A sallow candle on its last legs would do the trick for what he had in mind, and he wasted no time in holding out his palm with a brief beckon.

“Chris, give me your lighter.”

Complying with the command, Chris didn’t ask as he dug into the top pocket of his vest, but he did move slow enough to show that he was curious of the significance. Regardless, Wesker looked past the impudence as he received the device, making sure that Lisa was still distracted with herself in the background before continuing with his new plan. He waited until she went and procured two faded, beat-up dolls from a box of other various items prior to putting it into motion, watching only long enough to judge that despite the deranged and painful manifestation of whatever she had left to call a body, _inwardly_ she was still a fourteen-year-old. A scared, innocent child who knew nothing of her violent nature.

But that said nothing about her recognition of communication.

In her oversized hands, Lisa pressed the remains of her dolls together like they held the personification of a perfect family and represented an affection she no longer knew how to express. She wheezed something like a hoarse giggle at the shapes their limbs could take before noticing Wesker slowly approaching her. She stared loutishly as he placed the now-lit candle down in the middle of the floor, like a peace offering. His expression was cold despite the warm light dancing on the wick, but she was more mesmerized by the flame itself and moved to stand closer to it with a hiss.

“Chris… Don’t you have something to say to our _darling daughter_?”

It was remarkable how Wesker managed to say such a thing with a flat tone and a face just as straight, but Chris wasn’t as lost to the amazement as he was the request. Earlier when they were discussing the plan his Captain hadn’t actually briefed him that they were going to be exchanging blessings, now leaving him to improvise… something he was formally terrible at. He’d take a gun any day.

“Cute, uh, dolls.” Chris sounded so stiff that he was sure Wesker was rolling his eyes to the ceiling, but Chris honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say with the pressuring silence. “You got names for them?”

Lisa stayed perfectly still as another hush followed, as if to emphasize that she was processing what Chris had just said. However misconceived. And it was just that. After a minute more, she unexpectedly growled something enticing, something so far gone by chimera as she brusquely brought both dolls together again in another gesture. Twice it went unnoticed, but around the third time it looked like she was pressing the painted faces of them together with a botched, puckering sound forced from the air through her warped mouth.

Chris’s shoulders went rigid on the spot, vaguely getting the idea of what she was suggesting, but also dreading it. “You don’t think she wants us to—”

“ _Kiss_?” Wesker couldn’t have sounded any more amused. “Oh, I think she _does_.”


End file.
